Flying back on a plane from Stockholm listening to castaways and cutouts by the Decemberists on the iPod. Feeling one beer chilled after a couple of days of back to back meetings.
We started Sunday with random meetings in the late evening at a trendy boutique hotel owned improbably by Benny from ABBA. We were so late arriving that the hotel bar had already closed provoking a little excuse for us all to wander out to find a nearby bar. I asked the guy in the corner shop and he suggested a place at number 18.
Ten minutes, roped sidewalk and then inside with guitar band already rocking to an appreciative crowd. Tables and five beers ordered along with a scan for food. We'd arrived from USA, UK and Belgium on airline snacklets so the burgers beckoned as the best bet. Fifteen minutes and we are all congratulating one another on the serendipitous venue.
Next morning's seven o'clock start with the rest of the gang was suitable shock to the system with the bundle into taxis across town to the day's rather elegant meeting room coincidentally also named abba complete with plasma television showing a crackling fire as digital welcome.
Twelve hours later back in taxis to the downtown hotel then walk to the Gamla Stan old town to the five small houses for a traditional Swedish supper...
And so it has continued until this evening when I'm sitting on the BA flight back to UK, which departed early from sleek Arlanda airport to try to beat the headwinds. Which right now means I'm being bumped around at 30000 feet.
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